The End
by Aini NuFire
Summary: Apocalypse Wars, Episode 1 - The battles of Heaven and Hell are playing out across the Earth, and only a small cohort of angels remains loyal to protecting humanity. In addition, Castiel joins forces with two young hunters as they struggle to survive in a ravaged world and find a way to stop the war.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This AU is way different than any I've ever done before. It has an extra fantasy twist where an angel's grace takes the form of a spirit animal. It all started with a piece of fan art, and I wish ff would allow links, but if you google "dahliasheng hannah wolf grace" it should come up under images. Anyway, the art made me wonder what Cas's spirit animal/patronus would be, and then the muse decided to write an entire world around it.**

 **So a lot of things are different (but a lot the same!). It's kind of a combination of the End!verse and the alternate reality 29Pieces and I created in our post 12x23 fic, "Into The Breach." I had a lot of fun playing with this new world and the mythology, and I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Also, the style is a little different, with shorter fics making up "episodes" in the greater arc. I'll be posting each episode separately. This first one only has two chapters, but future ones range from 3-4.**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine. Thank you to 29Pieces for beta reading and for some stunning art to go with this series!**

* * *

THEN

 _And God created man and beasts in the image of angels, whom He set as protectors over His wondrous works._

 _..._

 _The announcement resounded throughout Heaven—demonic agents were gathering to open a Devil's Gate, thereby unleashing Hell on earth and starting the Apocalypse. Castiel assembled with his brothers and sisters, prepared to stop it._

 _"Stand down!" a booming voice reverberated through the pearly halls. Zachariah appeared on the dais. "The Apocalypse will happen."_

 _Hushed whispers rippled through the stunned crowd. Castiel stared in dismay._

 _"What?" Anna spoke up, pushing her way forward. "Why? The Apocalypse will destroy the earth and its inhabitants, our charges!"_

 _"Do not question the will of Heaven," Zachariah snapped. "Our job here is to win the war. You will prepare for battle," he addressed the rest of them. "But a later one."_

 _Castiel was still reeling as the assembly was dismissed. How could this be?_

 _He sought out Anna, his commander and friend whom he trusted. If she had doubts about this as he did, perhaps she could help him make sense of it. But he found her sneaking out of Heaven._

 _"You're considering disobedience?" he asked incredulously. Everything he had ever known and believed in was being shattered in one day._

 _"I don't believe it is God's will to stand by and do nothing. Please don't try to stop me, Castiel."_

 _He only hesitated for a moment. "I will go with you."_

 _..._

 _The Devil's Gate opened, a great fissure erupting up from the bowels of the earth. Demons spilled forth in swarms of hideous visages. Castiel became separated from Anna in the fighting. But two angels were not enough against legions._

 _Screams rent the air as the humans fled. Castiel vaguely noticed two young men fighting back against the demons. They worked in tandem, slaying beasts while urging the townsfolk to evacuate. The oldest pressed forward into the onslaught, gun in one hand and machete in the other._

 _"Dean!" the other one shouted._

 _"Get them out of here, Sam!"_

 _Children screamed._

 _Castiel watched the brilliant burn of that brave aura fall under another wave of demons. A hellhound burst forth from the Pit and latched onto the hunter. His screams seemed louder than the others as he was dragged back through the gate and into Hell._

 _But the last of the humans made it into their vehicles and escaped._

 _..._

 _The End had begun._

 _Castiel found shelter where he could nurse his battle wounds. He had no idea where Anna was. From inside a small hollow, Castiel watched the sky crack and split. What would he do now? He couldn't return to Heaven, and he'd failed in his duty._

 _But he didn't want to give up. Castiel didn't know who was truly giving the orders in Heaven, but he still had faith in his original mandate. And so he would continue to fight to protect humanity._

 _Starting with rescuing that righteous soul from the depths of Hell._

 _..._

NOW

Castiel pulled the pickup truck up to the edge of the campgrounds and eased it to a stop. It was a cumbersome method of travel compared to the currents of the ether, but it was the most efficient when it came time to deliver supplies to the human settlement at Camp Chitaqua. The back of the truck bed was stacked high with boxes and crates, things that would take multiple trips if Castiel were to transport them on his person through the ethereal slipstreams.

He and the cohort of angels he belonged to—a renegade garrison that was tying to stop the Apocalypse, as opposed to the rest of Heaven—picked up items where they could when they were out on missions. They were able to travel places these human survivors could not, such as demon infested cities, or cities that were still intact but under heavy guard. Once enough supplies were accumulated, Castiel then delivered the shipment to the humans he'd taken as his charges.

He turned off the truck's engine and watched the sentry break from his post at the wood gate to go report Castiel's arrival. Camp Chitaqua was a small settlement, with ten cabins spaced evenly throughout it. An eleventh was currently under construction on the west end. It awed Castiel that the human spirit was so resilient that people found a way to survive. They had lost most of the conveniences of their modern technology, and yet had rediscovered their ancestors' ability to build and shape with the most simplest of hand tools.

Castiel was proud to be their protector.

A few minutes later, two different mortals emerged from the central cabin and made their way across the grounds toward the gate. Castiel pushed his door open and exited the truck.

"Hey, Cas," the slightly shorter man greeted with a smile.

Castiel nodded to him. "Dean." Then to the second. "Sam."

Sam was taller and had longer hair than his brother, yet was the younger of the two. He wore a brown jacket over blue flannel, while Dean wore a dark green coat over a lighter shade of green flannel. They were very partial to the flannel, and had even tried to convince Castiel to change his attire in accordance. Apparently, his black shirt, black jacket, and equally dark jeans he always wore made him "look like a ninja," as Dean said. But Castiel liked the dark colors. And he did not like plaid.

"I brought supplies," he continued.

"Thanks, man," Dean said, going around to the back of the truck and flipping down the tailgate.

Sam let out a low whistle at the contents. "Wow. We really appreciate this, Cas. We were starting to run low on some things."

Then it was good Castiel had come when he did, before they were forced to venture out in search of necessities. Not that the Winchesters weren't capable; their father had raised them to hunt monsters. But that was back when vampires, werewolves, and ghosts were the worst things out there. And half the men and women in the camp did not have their same level of training to provide sufficient backup.

"I'm afraid Balthazar decided to keep the alcohol," Castiel informed them.

Dean's brows shot up dubiously. "What, all of it?"

"Yes." Castiel let out a disapproving huff. "He's decided his new motto is hedonism."

The Winchester brothers exchanged a somewhat pinched look.

Castiel frowned. "I didn't think you would be concerned with such things, given the circumstances."

Honestly, he didn't think Balthazar should be entertaining himself with such pursuits, either. But the other angel had argued that he was simply basking in appreciation for one of man's many creations, like how Castiel enjoyed man's works of literature. Though, in Castiel's opinion, they were not even close to the same thing.

"No, it's not that," Sam said. "It's just, we sometimes use the hard liquor as a disinfectant when treating wounds."

"And pain reliever," Dean added grimly. "Gotta save the stronger drugs for emergencies."

Castiel blinked. Oh. "My apologies, then. I'll make sure you get it next time."

He doubted there was any left from this last stock.

"Tell Balthazar he can keep the wine," Dean said. "But the hard stuff, like whiskey, we could really use."

"Of course." Castiel would make a note of that. And he would look into what medicines should be added to their list of items to keep a lookout for.

The Winchesters continued to give a cursory inventory of the supplies, sifting through canned vegetables and beans, clothes and blankets, batteries and camping gear.

"Hey, look, toilet paper," Sam said with a grin, tossing a six-pack to his brother.

Dean caught it easily and smirked. "Bobby will be thrilled." He stacked the package back on one of the boxes. "More ammo, awesome."

"There are some angel bullets in there as well," Castiel said.

Some demons could be taken out with regular lead bullets, but many were impervious to them, and so Castiel had started fashioning ammunition out of celestial steel that the humans could adapt to their weaponry. Since angelic weapons were made by compressing the energy of the ether, the process of making something as small as bullets wasn't difficult, just time consuming. Which was why Castiel couldn't keep them stocked to the brim with the advantage.

Sam found the small wooden box with the silver bullets and slid the top open. "Oh, this is even more perfect timing," he said. "Dean and I were just about to head out on a hunt."

Castiel canted his head. "What kind of hunt?"

"Hellhound," Dean said, voice instantly taking on a hard edge.

Sam gave his brother a subtle look of concern. "It's been circling the area for the past week," he explained to Castiel. "Better we take it out before it gets too close to camp."

That was probably wise. Castiel and the other angels had helped ward the campsite, hiding it from enemy eyes of both demonic and angelic nature. But it did not shield against a hound's nose, and hell beasts were one of the few that once they got a scent for prey, nothing would stop them from pursuing it.

Castiel shifted his focus to the sudden change in Dean's demeanor, which was now stiff and corded, his handling of the supplies rougher as he stacked items back in their places. Despite the resolute front, there was a reflection of haunted memory in his eyes.

"Would you like some assistance?" Castiel asked.

Dean startled. "Yeah? I mean, you don't have anywhere you need to be?"

"Not at present. I'd like to go with you."

Some of that tension in Dean's shoulders seemed to loosen, and his mouth quirked with a fraction of a relieved smile. "Yeah, okay. Cool. I'll just go tell the others to come start unloading stuff while we're gone."

With a half hesitant nod, he headed back toward the cabins.

Sam drew his handgun and released the magazine into his palm, then started swapping out the lead bullets with the celestial ones Castiel had brought. "Thanks for offering," he said softly. "I know one hellhound is a small job for you, and it's not like Dean can't handle it…"

"I understand, Sam," Castiel assured him.

He knew better than the younger Winchester what horrors Dean had gone through after a hound had dragged him into the Pit; Castiel had seen them first-hand when he'd laid siege to Hell to rescue the human. He'd only meant to do what he thought was right, given that Heaven's orders were no longer righteous. But it had somehow led to him becoming friends with the brave young man, and Castiel had developed a fierce protectiveness for both Dean and Sam since then.

"And I enjoy spending time with you and your brother," he added, somewhat self-consciously. "Though, the other angels in my garrison think that's strange."

Sam offered him a small smile and a shrug. "Well, Dean and I like having you around, too. You know, you're pretty much his only friend."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "I find that hard to believe. Dean is a very inspiring leader."

Castiel saw how the people at Camp Chitaqua looked to the older Winchester for guidance and assurance in these precarious times. To Sam, too, in many ways, and the younger Winchester was more or less an equal when it came to running the camp. But Dean was the figurehead.

"Leaders have followers, not friends," Sam replied. He finished loading the magazine and snapped it back into place in the gun. Then he racked the slide to manually slot the first bullet into the chamber so the weapon was ready. "With me and you, he gets to be himself."

Castiel considered that for a moment. He had never commanded a garrison himself, but looking back, he could recall how his captain, Anna, would bear herself in front of her soldiers, while in private, she revealed her softer side to Castiel, the one that shared his love of humanity and creation and expressed doubts where a leader was supposed to have none.

"I understand," he said.

Sam smiled again, then looked past the truck to where Dean was returning with a handful of people.

Castiel backed away from the vehicle several spaces; he knew most of the humans here preferred to give him a wide berth. It'd been almost a year since the Apocalypse started and the Earth had been ravaged by demons—and angels. Castiel was part of only a small faction who believed in protecting humans, so he understood why most viewed him with mistrust.

"Tell Bobby we'll be back by dark," Dean said. "And I expect an inventory of every single item on this truck. By category."

"What category is this supposed to go under?" a woman spoke up, reaching into the back of the truck bed and lifting a small grip with a mass of leather tails flowing out one end.

Dean turned to arch a brow at Castiel.

The angel gazed back at him blankly. "I believe that was picked up by Gabriel. …It looks like a weapon," he offered.

Dean rolled his eyes to the sky. "Just…use your best judgement," he said, and slung the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. Then he nodded to Sam and Castiel. "Ready?"

"Loaded and got the extra angel bullets, too," Sam answered, patting his jacket pocket where he'd stashed the small wooden box.

Castiel didn't need anything aside from himself.

"Okay," Dean said with what sounded like forced cheerfulness. "Let's go hunting."

* * *

Since the hellhound had been spotted within a couple of miles of camp, Dean wasn't going to waste gas driving out there when they could hike.

That was one thing about the Apocalypse that really dampened Dean's spirits—he missed his Baby. Oddly enough, the other stuff like the monsters and sleeping in run-down places wasn't all that different from the life he and Sam had lived on the road, hunting. Actually, the cabins at Camp Chitaqua were better than some of the dives he'd stayed in before.

But having to permanently park the Impala out back and cover her with a tarp…that hurt. She just wasn't practical to take on missions, though, even when they did drive; that beautiful purr was too noisy and she didn't get the best mileage unless Dean was able to take meticulous care of her engine—not possible anymore with their limited resources.

And so the longest hunting companion he'd had other than Sam was retired. It really was the end of the world.

Things could have been worse, though. Dean could have still been trapped in Hell. There was _no way_ he should have gotten out. That hellhound had sunk its fangs into his leg and hauled him down into that hole so deep that the memory of sun and fresh air had turned to ash on his skin and lungs. Every breath burned with sulfur and brimstone. The inhuman shrieks felt like glass in his ears. He had never felt such terror. Or pain. He'd thought the hellhound would eat him alive, but then he'd been delivered to a demon and thrown on a rack…

Dean wrenched himself away from those memories. He wasn't there anymore.

All because Castiel, an angel, had made the crazy decision that he was worth saving. Cas hadn't known Dean from Jack, and yet this terrifying, ethereal being had braved Hell to bring _him_ out. It defied all reason and imagination.

And Dean would forever be indebted to him. For a lot of things.

He glanced at his unlikely friend. For a fearsome creature of divine might, Cas was also a weird, dorky little guy who could quote Shakespeare yet hadn't seen a single movie or TV show since the invention of film. Dean had once tried to sit him down to watch some DVDs of _Dr. Sexy_ Dean had found, but the electricity in the place they'd been squatting in had gone out before they'd finished the first episode. Cas, the smug bastard, had then pointed out that books didn't have that problem.

God, Dean missed television. He missed being able to sit back and unwind with mindless entertainment. Books required concentration, and were more apt to put him to sleep. Still, at some point he'd probably need a hobby outside of construction and hunting. And, you know, fighting to survive.

"Over here," Sam called.

Dean and Cas made their way over to where Sam was crouched down and looking at something in the dirt. It was a paw print, as large as Dean's hand, and charred around the edges. Dean's stomach did an unpleasant flip as red eyes and molten veins flashed through his mind.

 _Get a grip. We can take care of one measly hellhound_. Especially with Cas along.

The angel knelt down across from Sam and examined the tracks. "It's recent," he said. "Probably this morning." Cas canted his head and looked off in the direction the prints were heading. Then he stood. "This way."

Dean and Sam fell into step behind him, keeping their eyes peeled on the ground for signs of the hellhound as they went. The tracks were clear and easy to follow, as were the broken branches the beast had barreled through.

They followed the markings for half a mile before coming upon a farm. The fields were fallow and there was a hush over the area that signaled nothing living was nearby. Well, nothing earthly, anyway.

"There," Cas said quietly, and Dean stiffened.

Along the opposite side of the far field, a huge black dog came loping through the dead and shriveled corn stalks. Even from this distance, Dean could see the fulvous veins coursing like lava across the sinuous muscles. Hellhounds didn't exactly have flesh and fur.

The beast headed toward the barn and slipped through the open door.

Dean slipped his rifle off his shoulder and held it at the ready. "Okay, let's make this quick."

As they broke from the tree line and started across the field, Dean had to remind himself that there was no gaping hole into Hell nearby. Yeah, the prospect of confronting a hellhound made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but it wasn't like he was going to get dragged back into the Pit. And he was properly armed this time. All they had to do was go in there, shoot the thing, and call it a day.

Then, halfway to the barn, Cas came to an abrupt stop. "Wait."

Dean halted, throwing a perplexed look at the angel. Cas's gaze had narrowed sharply on the barn, and a second later, Dean realized why. The hellhound poked its head back out through the open door—followed by two more hounds.

Dean heard his brother suck in a sharp gasp. Shit, it wasn't just one hellhound; it was a _pack_.

A growl issued from the opposite direction, and Dean whipped around so fast he nearly stumbled. Three more hounds were slinking across the field to circle around them.

"Dean, Sam, stand back," Cas ordered.

Dean sidestepped a few paces to give Cas space, keeping his rifle up and pointed at the incoming hell beasts. Cas stood with feet apart, chin down and eyes blazing with intensity. And then those eyes began to glow.

A blue aura rippled along the outline of Cas's form before surging upward into the contours of a great cat. The swirling sapphire and silver grace roared as the panther flared to life, slamming its paws on the ground with enough force to shake the foundation. Inside the glowing aurora of spirit armor, Cas's human form stared down the hellhounds in challenge.

One of them let out a baying call, and all six charged at once with snarls and gnashing teeth. Cas swung one arm out, and backhanded one of the beasts with a swipe of the panther's paw. It went flying through the air with a yelp.

The other hounds darted in, some going low, some high. One leaped onto the panther's back and sunk its fangs into the diaphanous grace. The cat reared back. Cas jerked around and grabbed at the dog's flank to rip it off with the panther's claws.

Another hound dove under the feline's legs to get at Cas in the center, but Sam fired his gun two times in quick succession, and the hellhound squealed as celestial steel ripped through its hide. Cas spun in time to kick the wounded hound away from him.

Dean finished it off with a head shot, then swung his rifle around and aimed at another mutt just getting up from Cas having thrown it.

One of the beasts broke from the mob going after the angel, and charged toward Dean and Sam. Dean tried to shoot it, but the animal was too fast and had launched itself straight at them.

The panther came lashing out of nowhere and clamped its crackling jaws around the hellhound midair. Static prickled Dean's skin, yet he dashed forward and rolled under the cat, landing in a crouch and firing at another hound coming in behind Cas.

An enraged howl rent the air, followed by the sizzle of sulfur. Dean turned to find one of the larger hounds huffing and puffing, the molten veins of its blood beginning to glow hotter. The hellhound opened its gaping maw, prepared to unleash a belching eruption of brimstone.

Dean ducked behind Cas, as did Sam. A stream of fire shot out from the beast's throat, straight at them. Cas thrust a palm out and the panther's wispy grace pulsed with a surge of energy. The panther hunkered down, tucking its head in just as the fire slammed into its forehead. Dean felt the aura near him ripple from the impact, but Cas's shield held. And when the hellhound was out of breath, Cas raised his head for the panther to strike, grabbing the hell beast by its jugular and flinging it through the air. It hit the side of the barn and didn't get up.

Dean twisted around in search of more, but the hellhounds were all dead, the lava in their surface veins having all dimmed and cooled into igneous cracks. The grace panther melted into mist that gradually receded back into Cas, until he looked like a regular guy again.

Dean slowly straightened. "Really glad you came with us," he uttered.

Cas roved his gaze around the corpses. "So am I."

"I'll check the barn," Sam said, and headed for the door.

Dean ran a hand over his hair. "Guess we should burn these. I'll find something to make a fire pit. Can you start piling the bodies in one place?"

Cas nodded. "Of course."

Dean started scanning the ground for large rocks, but most of the area was plain dirt and dried grass. He went into the barn; maybe there was something metal lying around they could use. The putrid smell of decay hit him like a sledgehammer.

"Ungh, what died in here," he grunted.

Sam was standing at the opening of an animal stall, face scrunched up and looking a little green. "What didn't," he replied grimly.

Dean went over to look, only to wish he hadn't. There was a huge mound of carcasses in the pen ranging from small animals to a coyote, to several humans. And what looked like a completely eaten horse. Despite the smell, these kills couldn't have been more than a couple of weeks old, which coincided with the hellhound sightings. At least they'd gotten to this pack before it had started hunting closer to camp and picking them off one by one.

There was a small zipping noise, followed by a muffled thud and sounds of a scuffle outside. Exchanging an alert look with Sam, both of them wordlessly drew their guns and darted back toward the door. They stopped at the opening and peeked through it. Dean's heart leaped into his throat.

Cas was on his knees, some burly dude standing behind him with one meaty arm around Cas's throat and the other hand holding an angel blade over his chest. A second guy was standing in front of them, his back to the barn.

"Well, well, well, Castiel," he said in a sing-song voice. "Playing with the dogs, are you?"

Cas glared defiantly at his captors. "Last I checked, even Heaven won't abide fiends from the Pit to walk the Earth."

"But you're not with Heaven, are you, Castiel? You're a traitor."

Dean looked at his brother and made a beckoning motion with his hand. Carefully and silently, Sam reached into his pocket to pull out the box of angel bullets, the only weapon that would work against those beings capable of creating them. Dean reached across the door opening to take it, wincing when some of the loose bullets rattled slightly in their container.

"Zachariah's going to be thrilled when he finds out the disturbance we saw was you," the angel went on.

Dean fumbled to swap out the bullets in his handgun. He flicked a frantic look at the angels, afraid they might take off any second, and caught Cas's gaze looking directly toward the barn. The other two angels didn't seem to notice, as Cas had his head angled down in the chokehold. But the blazing message in Cas's eyes was clear— _don't_.

Dean clenched his jaw. Like hell he was gonna stand by and not do anything. But before he and Sam even had the opportunity to come out guns blazing, the air rippled and bent, and all three angels disappeared with a tiny pop into the ether.

* * *

 **A/N: Be sure to check out 29-pieces-of-me on deviantart for a stunning sketch of Cas and his spirit animal!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Last chapter for this first "episode"!**

* * *

 **Part II**

Dean and Sam burst out of the barn into the empty yard, save for the hellhound carcasses Cas had started throwing together in a pile. Dean kicked at them.

"Dammit!"

"What do we do?" Sam asked worriedly, always looking to Dean for answers. Everyone was always looking to him for answers, but he wasn't any more equipped to be dealing with everything than anyone else…

He forced himself to take a breath. "We have to find where they took him."

Sam's expression pinched in obvious distress. "How? They could have gone anywhere."

Dean shook his head resolutely. "No, you heard 'em say they were close enough for the fight to draw their attention. And if they took Cas back to this Zach dude, then he's probably nearby."

Sam lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug. "That still doesn't help us. 'Nearby' for angels means what? Miles?"

Dean gritted his teeth. They could have gone in any direction, too. He mentally cursed again.

"Okay, wait, wait, wait," he said, raising his hands as though it would help the universe stop spinning long enough for him to figure this out. "Cas said something once, that if he ever needed to find me, he could, like, sense the bit of grace he used to heal me after Hell."

Sam just looked at him blankly. "Okay, and?"

"So maybe it can go both ways."

Sam's brow furrowed in thought. "You have any idea how to do that?"

Dean furled his hands into fists. _No_. But there had to be a way. Dean wasn't going to just leave Cas in the hands of those ass-clowns who obviously weren't fans of said angel. So he needed to concentrate.

When Cas had healed him, he'd done it by infusing a small bit of his own grace into Dean's body. That probably should have freaked him out more than it did, but after what he'd been through in Hell, the only feelings Dean was capable of at the time was sheer relief and stupefaction. And then he and Cas had become friends, and it didn't seem like such a bad thing, given Cas had saved his life. If his dad could see him now.

Dean closed his eyes and focused on trying to sense that sliver of angelic essence. Yet after several moments, nothing seemed to be happening. The grace signature was so faint and inert that Dean never would have even been aware of it if Cas hadn't told him it was there. So how the hell was he supposed to make it work like a reverse angel tracking beacon?

He had to, though, because Cas's life was probably on the line.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to block out the stench of dead bodies, the sound of Sam's restless shifting, and the feeling of his brother's eyes boring into him. What would the grace feel like? Dean pictured Cas's true form, the one that was a majestic feline, fierce and powerful. Yet there was also the human side of the same coin, the one that had carried him through the dark woods to a place of safety, had handled his broken and bleeding body with utter gentleness. The grace Cas had gradually washed over his wounds had felt cool and pure like a mountain stream. It had resonated with the distant chimes of far off galaxies.

Dean felt something deep inside his chest ping at the memory of that song, and he sucked in a sharp breath in surprise.

"Dean? Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "I got it, Sam." He mentally grasped that chord and clutched as tightly as he could. It thrummed in response, a signal racing out from the center to somewhere outside of himself. Dean opened his eyes and turned east.

His pulse was pattering wildly in his throat, and his nerves were a jittery mess, but he had it. "I can find him," he said.

Sam's brows shot upward. "Um, okay. Any idea how far?"

Dean's mouth turned down as he tried to feel out the connection. "No." He wondered if Cas would know they were searching for him.

"I saw a truck up near the house," Sam said. "If we're lucky, it'll have gas."

Dean nodded, and they made their way past the barn and up to the driveway where an old Ford sat, dusty and tires covered in cobwebs. It wasn't locked, though, and Dean climbed in behind the wheel, then leaned down to reach the wires under the steering column.

 _Please, please, please_ , he prayed to no one.

On the third scrape of the wires, the engine started up with a rumble. Dean exchanged a stunned look of relief with Sam before his brother's expression fell. A glance at the dash showed the tank was less than one quarter full.

"It'll be enough," Dean said. It had to be.

They slammed the doors shut and pulled away from the farm. Once they reached the road, Dean turned in the direction he felt that inexplicable tug and gunned it.

 _Hang on, Cas_.

* * *

Castiel stumbled as he was yanked out of the ether, Theo still holding him in a headlock. They'd materialized in the lobby of what had once been a bank, though now it was nothing more than a vandalized structure in a forsaken city. The windows were all shattered, furniture strewn about the dusty floor. Dollar bills lay scattered like confetti, their value reduced to nothing more than the substance they were made of in this new economy of death and survival.

It took Castiel a moment to reorient himself and realize he'd been brought only a few miles from the farm. If he'd known angels had been in the area, he would have been more cautious about unleashing his grace in battle. But then the question became, what were angels doing all the way out here? This city had been lost long ago, overrun with demons and hell spawn, though there were a few sections where humans still struggled to survive, mostly in hiding. Castiel roved his gaze around in confusion, noticing that sigils had been carved into the walls. Why?

"Zachariah," Nahum said. "Look what we found."

Castiel stiffened as a figure that had been standing across the lobby and facing the high windows slowly turned. Zachariah's eyes gleamed with delight.

"Castiel. Fortune smiles on us today." He began to stalk forward. "Well, not on you."

Castiel gritted his teeth. At least Sam and Dean hadn't been seen. _That_ was fortunate, as he knew Nahum would not have hesitated to kill them, simply because they were human.

"Now what brought the rebel out here?" Zachariah mused.

"We found him disposing of some hellhounds," Nahum supplied.

Zachariah narrowed his eyes on Castiel. "Is that it?"

"It appeared so."

"Seems a trite errand." Zachariah's gaze bored into him, but Castiel would not be cowed. They held that intense, unyielding stare for several long moments before Zachariah's mouth twitched with a twisted smirk. "Loquacious today, I see."

Castiel glowered at him, but still refused to speak.

"Come now, Castiel. Don't make me carve answers out of you." He paused, eyes lighting up again. "On second thought, that does sound more fun."

With a flick of his wrist, his angel blade appeared in hand. Zachariah strode right up to Castiel, who struggled briefly in Theo's brutish restraint. The larger angel merely grabbed Castiel's right arm and wrenched it behind his back, Theo's own beefy arm never even easing up on Castiel's windpipe.

Zachariah rested the flat side of the blade against Castiel's cheek. "What's the location of the rebel faction? They must have a base somewhere."

Castiel inhaled sharply through his nose as he prepared to brace himself.

Zachariah's eyes hardened as the seconds ticked by in silence. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he slanted the blade before slicing down. Fire seared across Castiel's cheek, and he clamped his teeth together to keep from fully crying out. It didn't prevent the garbled noise in his throat, however.

Zachariah stepped back. "You always were too stubborn for your own good, Castiel. I look forward to breaking you. Unfortunately, I have an appointment to keep at the moment."

He turned around and walked to a long rectangular table with a large aluminum suitcase set on top of it. Flipping the latches, he raised the lid, revealing an oblong piece of metal nested within a foam case inside. There was a disc panel affixed to the center, with red numbers on a screen.

"Humans are like cockroaches," Zachariah said conversationally. "Even when they invent the technology to wipe themselves out, they yet survive."

Castiel frowned as Zachariah punched a code into a cell phone that was attached to the central pad, and the red numbers began to count down.

"But, I have to admit that vaporizing every demon within a five-mile radius with one bomb is quite appealing. I got the idea after the humans bombed Chicago."

Castiel's heart seized, and the meaning of the protective warding on the walls suddenly became clear.

"You can't do that," he exclaimed, finally breaking his silence and giving another futile struggle against Theo's hold.

"You think those hellhounds were the only ones in the area? Demons are breeding them in this city. Intel shows they're trying to make it a stronghold. Obviously, we can't allow that."

"You'll kill every human for miles!" If not in the initial explosion, then with the wave of radiation that would wash over the area. Everyone in Camp Chitaqua would be caught in it.

Zachariah angled a dispassionate look toward him. "So?"

Castiel's blood ran cold. No, he couldn't let this happen.

Zachariah shut the case's lid and picked it up by the handle. "Nahum, Theo, try to get something useful out of the rebel. But don't go too far; I want enough left for me when I get back."

With that, he pivoted and headed for the stairwell.

Theo kicked at the back of Castiel's legs, driving him to his knees. Nahum drew his angel blade and started forward, a minacious grin quirking his smug mien.

"You know how this goes, Castiel. Give us names and locations, and maybe we won't draw it out as long as possible."

Castiel's chest seethed as he glared up at him. "You forget, I know you too well to believe that."

Nahum shrugged. "Good point."

He slashed the blade across Castiel's midsection, only a shallow cut, but the celestial alloy burned like fire as blue grace briefly flared and fizzled from the wound. Castiel choked on a cry of pain.

Nahum squatted down in front of him, tapping the blood stained tip of the blade against Castiel's thigh. "I'll go get some chains. String you up right and proper."

"How about not."

Castiel's breath froze at the familiar voice. _No_ , that was impossible.

His captors snapped their attention toward the left, Theo wrenching Castiel around as well. He had only a split moment to gape in dismay before none other than Dean and Sam standing in the broken doorway raised their guns and fired.

Theo jerked and fell backward, flinging Castiel to the ground as well. He quickly rolled away as a burst of grace exploded from Theo with a grizzly roar, and then shattered into stardust. The angel's empty shell lay on the ground, eyes vacant and a bullet hole between them. Nahum was also dead, silver specks floating down around where he lay with an identical wound in his forehead.

Harried footsteps rushed forward across the tile.

"Cas! Hey, you okay?" Dean asked worriedly as he and Sam dropped down beside him.

Castiel blinked at them in bewilderment. "How did you get here?" he blurted.

"We drove," Dean replied with his typical wry snark. The hunter quickly sobered, though. "Long story and I'll explain later. Right now, we need to get out of here before that Zachariah dickbag shows up."

He and Sam reached for Castiel's arms and hauled him to his feet, then started to tug him toward the door. Castiel dug his heels in.

"I can't. Zachariah's already here, on the roof. He got his hands on a human nuclear device and intends to detonate it over the area."

Sam's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. " _What_?"

"Shit," Dean cursed. "How do we stop him?"

"If I distract Zachariah, can you two take care of the bomb?" Castiel asked.

"You want us to disarm a _nuke_?" Sam sputtered.

"If you don't, every living creature for miles will be eradicated."

"No pressure," Dean muttered.

Castiel turned toward the stairwell. "Hurry."

* * *

Sam and Dean barreled after Cas as the angel clamored up the stairwell and burst out onto the roof. The city was already so ravaged, it was hard to imagine that setting off a bomb could make things worse. But a nuke was an entirely different story.

Sam's heart was racing as the three of them skidded to a stop. In the middle of the roof was a white-haired man kneeling down next to a metal suitcase. This Zachariah wasn't like most of the angels Sam had gotten glimpses of; the prick was actually wearing a business suit and tie. The lid of the case was up, and Sam could see some bright red dashes slowly changing configurations.

The angel whipped around at their arrival, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Castiel, are you working with _humans_?"

Static tingled along Sam's arms as Cas's grace began to ripple around him.

"I won't let you do this," Cas said, voice low and deadly.

Zachariah slowly stood up, and his own eyes began to glow with an eerie aura. "I'm going to enjoy finally putting you in your place."

"Then come and try," Cas growled.

He started forward just as Zachariah did. In the next step, both of their grace forms erupted outward with resounding roars and collided midair with a clash of thunder.

The shockwave almost knocked Sam on his ass, but he caught himself on a ventilation duct. His stomach dropped out from under him as Zachariah's much larger lion loomed up over Cas's panther. Its rippling mane crackled like electricity, and when it snapped its jaws at Cas, lightning came shooting down its fangs.

Cas flinched away, but darted back in just as quickly, lashing out with claws and teeth and driving Zachariah to the other side of the roof.

Sam drew in a sharp breath to steel himself, and sprinted across the roof to the bomb. Dean scrambled out behind him, and they both dropped down in front of the case as the numbers on the timer counted down just over a minute until detonation.

"You've got to be friggin' kidding me," Dean snapped. He whipped out a knife and wedged it into the crevice of the casing to break it apart, exposing the wires. Oh god, there was a whole mesh of them.

"Which one do we cut?" Dean asked frantically.

"Like I know!"

"Well, what color is it in the movies?"

"You want to gamble our lives on Hollywood? They never get anything right!"

"I'm open to other suggestions, Sam!"

Sam glanced over his shoulder where Cas and Zach were still fighting. The lion lashed out and grazed its claws across the panther's flank. Cas's cry of pain issued from both his cat and human voice as he stumbled.

Sam wrenched his attention back to the bomb, the counter at forty-five seconds. Forty-four.

"Okay, it's always the red wire, right?" Dean said, slipping his knife under the red cord. "Or is it never the red wire?"

Sam's heart felt like it was going to pound right out of his chest. Holding his breath, he snatched up the cell phone seated next to the counter and ripped the backing off, then grabbed the battery and yanked it out. The countdown timer froze.

Sam gaped at it for a long moment in sheer stupefaction.

Dean finally shook himself out of his own daze and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sammy, you're a genius!"

He sagged forward and almost dropped his head between his knees. "Oh god, that actually worked?"

"You weren't sure?" Dean exclaimed.

"Like you were!"

An enraged roar had them both twisting around as Cas went rolling across the rooftop. He hit the side of the stairwell exit, his human form crumpled inside his spritzing panther shield. Zachariah's glowing eyes snapped to the Winchesters, then down. Both man and lion threw its head back and bellowed.

Dean scrambled for his gun. "Oh, he looks pissed."

Sam fumbled for his own weapon as Zachariah started to charge toward them, but even angel bullets weren't as effective when the grace beings were powered up. They probably felt like BB gun pellets, if the barest flinch and irate snarl was anything to go by. Sam and Dean started to scramble backwards.

Cas pushed himself up and lunged to intercept. He crashed into Zachariah, tackling him into a roll. The panther clamped its jaws around the lion's shoulder and bit down hard. Zachariah howled, and his human form twisted around to punch Cas across the face.

There was a sudden pop in the air above and a flash of white energy slipped through a crack in the sky. A bird screeched, and that wispy phantasm burst into the silhouette of an osprey. With another strident shriek, it dove down and raked lightning talons across the lion. Zachariah screamed.

Another zipping sound, and a silver stream shot in from the other direction to slash the lion's back. Sam caught sight of a fox zinging out and around, avoiding a swipe of a massive paw.

Cas staggered to his feet and crossed his arms in a defensive stance. The panther reared back, and then rammed its head into the lion's shoulder. Zachariah stumbled backward against the edge of the rooftop, nearly pitching over the edge. He swung at the osprey as it took another swan dive at him, but missed. The fox raced underneath, delivering a direct hit to Zachariah's center that made his entire grace shield shudder from the impact.

And then with a spitting crackle, Zachariah disappeared through a slit in space.

Cas stared at the empty air for a moment before his grace rippled and began to fold back inward. He turned as the other two grace animals glided down to alight on the roof where they swirled in on themselves and materialized into human forms, the osprey into a woman with wavy blonde hair, and the fox into a scrappy looking guy with sand-colored hair.

"Sam, Dean," Cas said. "You remember Balthazar." He gestured to the angel who apparently liked to wear as much black as Cas did, then to the woman in green cargo pants and black vest. "And this is Muriel." Cas canted his head at the angel newcomers. "This is Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Hi," Sam said, carefully putting his gun away.

"Nice timing there," Dean commented with a nod of greeting.

"We got wind from an informant about what Zachariah was planning," Balthazar said, turning his gaze to Cas. "You were lucky we spotted you and the putz duking it out up here."

Cas suddenly stiffened and snapped his attention to Sam and Dean. "The bomb?"

"Disarmed," Sam happily reported.

Cas's shoulders slumped in obvious relief, and he quirked a small smile at them. "I knew you two could handle it."

Dean jabbed a finger at him. "We are never doing that again."

Muriel walked over to Cas and took his chin in one hand, forcing him to angle his head to the side so she could see the cut down his cheek. Her gaze dropped to the bloody tear in his shirt as well.

Cas gently pushed her arm down. "I'm fine."

"Yes, because blood is supposed to be outside your body like that," Balthazar quipped.

Cas scowled at him. "My injuries aren't serious. I think the priority is getting that—" he nodded to the nuke "—as far away from here as possible."

Sam had to agree with that.

"I'll take care of it," Balthazar volunteered, albeit with a sigh that sounded put-off.

"And we should go before any demons come to see what all that ruckus was about," Dean put in.

Cas gave a fervent nod and started for the stairwell. Balthazar went over to the suitcase and placed his hands on the sides. His brow furrowed in a moment of concentration, and then he and it disappeared.

Sam and Dean headed after Cas, with Muriel bringing up the rear. They made their way back down to the first floor of the bank and out the shattered doors into the street. The truck Sam and Dean had commandeered was around the corner, so the Winchesters signaled the angels to follow them that way. It would give them a head start out of the city.

Cas and Muriel hopped in back while the brothers got inside the cab and started the engine up. Sam kept his eyes peeled out the windows in case any demons leaped out at them. So far, so good.

The truck suddenly lurched as something banged against the back, and Dean swerved as Sam whipped around, expecting an attack. But it was just Balthazar having dropped into the truck bed. The angel gave them a cheeky brow waggle through the back window.

Dean muttered something unflattering under his breath. Sam was too busy trying to get his heart rate back down to normal.

The truck finally sputtered to a groaning halt halfway back to camp, out of gas. They'd have to walk the rest of the way.

Cas hopped out of the back and winced, reaching up to rub his shoulder.

"You okay?" Sam asked. He hadn't seen too many angel on angel fights like that, and wondered whether Cas actually had a bite wound on his shoulder from the lion attacking his panther form.

"I will heal," the angel replied.

Sam eyed the red cut on his face. "We can patch you up when we get back to camp," he offered.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you."

"Maybe you should head back to your base," Dean said. "Sam and I can make it home from here."

Cas's mouth turned down. "I'd prefer to make sure you both got there safely."

Dean rolled his eyes. "We're big boys, Cas."

"I need to retrieve the supply truck anyway."

"I'm sure one of your pals would volunteer to do it for you."

Sam cast a sidelong look at Balthazar and Muriel, whose faces had scrunched up slightly at the suggestion.

Cas snorted. "I'm the only one who knows how to drive."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"Human vehicles are slow and confining," Muriel said, and Sam almost laughed at how her mouth formed a small pout.

"I frankly don't understand how Castiel can stand it," Balthazar added, giving the broken-down truck a distasteful look.

"I didn't say you couldn't go ahead," Cas replied blandly.

"Like we're letting you out of our sight," Balthazar retorted. "Wait till Gabriel hears you were in the middle of that mess with Zachariah. He's going to have a conniption."

Cas's jaw visibly tightened as though he wasn't particularly looking forward to that.

Sam exchanged a small smirk with Dean; they hadn't had many encounters with angels outside of Cas, and those they did usually were the unfriendly kind, like back there with Zachariah and his goons who'd nabbed Cas. So it was kinda nice seeing that their friend had siblings who weren't all that different from Sam and Dean, even down to the brotherly bantering.

Cas turned to them, suddenly looking serious. "I want to thank you for coming after me," he said. "But how on earth did you find me so quickly?"

Sam glanced at his brother as Dean shifted his weight awkwardly.

"I, uh, used the bond. The one you said happened after you rescued me from Hell." He reached up to rub the back of his head almost abashedly. "You said you could use it to find me, so I thought why not the reverse?"

Cas gaped at him, and Sam got the distinct impression that wasn't exactly normal.

"What bond?" Muriel spoke up sharply.

Cas startled as he jerked his gaze back to her. "When I healed Dean before, I had to infuse some of my grace. I didn't know it would create a profound bond between us." He looked back at the older Winchester. "And I certainly had no idea it could go both ways."

Muriel's brows shot upward. "You didn't know… There's a reason we have healers, Castiel! It's their gift to heal and mend without siphoning off their grace like that."

"It wasn't as though I was able to call on anyone at the time," Cas pointed out defensively.

"Does Gabriel know?" Balthazar asked.

Cas rolled his shoulder. "I assume he…assumed that's what happened."

"Wait, what's the big deal?" Dean interrupted. "Are you saying Cas did something wrong?"

Balthazar and Muriel exchanged a look.

"Not _wrong_ ," the female angel replied. "Just, unprecedented."

"I don't regret saving Dean," Cas said sternly. "Or healing him from Hell's tortures."

Sam watched his brother's complexion blanch at the mention of what he'd been through, and his gut clenched in sympathy. Seeing Dean get dragged into that portal as hell poured out around them had been the most horrific thing Sam had ever gone through. He would have gone after his brother right then and there if he hadn't been trying to save all those people. And for months afterward as the world fell apart and Sam fought to help those he could, he was haunted by his helplessness and the loss of his brother.

Until Dean showed back up, this strange dark-haired guy in tow, and told Sam how an _angel_ had rescued him.

So Sam didn't care if Cas had done something the other angels would frown on; he'd saved Dean.

"I don't regret it, either," Dean put in gruffly. "Especially since I was able to use that hoodoo to find Cas before those other angels tore into him."

Cas huffed in exasperation. "It's not 'hoodoo', Dean. And your actions were rather reckless, you know. What if there had been more angels? They could have killed you both."

Dean shot him a sharp glower. "That's what friends do."

Castiel blinked as though momentarily taken aback, but then his expression softened.

"Let's go," Sam interjected. "We told Bobby we'd be back before dark."

Muriel sighed. "I'm going to scout ahead." She disappeared through a brief ripple in the air.

"Me too." And then Balthazar was gone.

Cas gave the brothers a rueful smile. "Thank you, again," he said sincerely.

Dean slung an arm over Cas's uninjured shoulder. "I don't have many friends in this world that's going down the toilet. Gotta fight for the ones I got."

Sam shared a knowing look with the angel, then added, "We protect our family."

Dean broke into a beaming smile, which was rare these days. "Exactly."

Cas's mouth quirked, and he gave a firm nod.

They set off down the road, and Sam couldn't help but feel in that moment, even in the face of the end of the world, the three of them together might just be able to stand against it.

...

NEXT TIME

"Hey, Cas," Dean called out. "What's up?"

"I can't stay long," Cas replied, sounding a bit more grave than usual. "My garrison is planning to move against the Devil's Gate. With any luck, we'll be able to close it and stop the entire Apocalypse."

"What, really?" Sam blurted.

Dean furrowed his brow. "Wait, how exactly? I thought you said that thing was too powerful."

Cas shifted his weight. "A small contingent is going to take that nuclear device we stole from Zachariah through the portal and detonate it on the other side."


End file.
